Truth or Die
by AlienEeeter
Summary: In an age old ritual involving Harry's class, they must play the game of truth or die trying. Rating may change.
1. Prologue

Truth or Die

A/N: Part one of five, maybe six. I'm not sure.

* * *

"Welcome to the Hogwart's Seventh Year game of Truth or Die," Draco Malfoy said, standing in front of the large darkened room somewhere deep within the dungeons of Hogwarts. He read from a crumbling scroll. " 'Truth or Die' has been a tradition for hundreds of years, a ritual every seventh year must endure before they graduate from Hogwarts. I would like to welcome you all on this Halloween night. As you know, my name was drawn to emcee. So here we go. The rules.

"The first rule of Truth or Die is, don't talk about Truth or Die. Not to each other, and not to the lower classmen. The game's effectiveness relies on secrecy. For the rest of the year you will look upon your classmates, and know their deepest secrets. We entrust these secrets to each other and they will remain such for the rest of our lives. Remember. You can tell our secrets, but we can also tell yours.

"This is how the game is played. You will ask the question to the person directly to your right. I will start with a question directed towards Pansy. It will end with…who's at the end? In the back row?" He peered into the audience, and Harry raised his hand. "Good. And Potter will ask me his question, bringing the group full circle.

"There is only one warning in this game. Those who refuses to answer their question will die. Several deaths have been reported, the most recent one in 1973—"

"That's a load of crap, Malfoy," Hermione shouted out from the back row. "It's never been proven that those deaths have a link. Yes, they were all seventh years who died on November first, but none of them died the same way."

"Shut up, Granger. Have a sense of tradition, will you?" Hermione did not reply. "Alright then. Lets get started, shall we?"


	2. The Slytherins

Part 2: The Slytherins

A/N: I had a difficult time persuading Crabbe and Goyle to Speak. Isnt that funny?

* * *

His eyes rested on his victim. "Pansy."

She kept eye contact with her fellow Slytherin. "Why don't you tell us the story of your first time. The whole story, just as you told it to me. Stand up, and tell the whole class how you popped your cherry."

Pansy glared, but stood up, her pug face calm despite her obvious embarrassment. "It was during our fourth year, during the first task of the tournament. Everyone was watching Harry with the horned tail, but Goyle and I had other things in mind. We were under the bleachers, which was foolish, and Snape caught us. Except he watched for a few minutes first, until Goyle was done. He kept his eyes on us, and I kept my eyes on him, and he was the one I was thinking of. Not Goyle."

Draco nodded with a smile, and went to the last chair next to Harry. "Gonna enjoy the show tonight?" he whispered to Harry.

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"Right."

"Millicent Bullstrode," Pansy was saying, and the enormous girl stood up, looking as surly as ever.

"This should be interesting," Hermione muttered under her breath, just in Malfoy's earshot.

"What would you consider the best moment of your life," Pansy continued, "and why?"

Millicent kept her eyes on the back row of chairs. "Second year, when I got into that fight with Hermione Granger. It was the first and only time I got to feel the softness of her skin."

Malfoy chuckled at Hermione's gasp of surprise. "Better start watching yourself in the halls, Granger," he called from his seat two chairs over.

He couldn't help but grin as truths were being told, secrets revealed. Theodore Nott soon called out the name of his victim. "Gregory Goyle." Goyle stood, ready to do battle. "Well, this will be like questioning a sack of rocks. Gregory Goyle, what really happened to you last Halloween?"

Goyle shuffled his feet and looked around at the faces of the crowd. "I--um. Me mum. She wanted me home for my sister's tenth birthday party. I didn't really get drunk and buy a lot of hookers. She asked Dumbledore if I could go home for the night. Crabbe made up that hooker story for me."

"I have to admit," Harry said to Ron. "This is going to be one different night, that's for damn sure."

"Yep."

"So what are you going to ask me?"

"Dunno yet."

Draco turned his attention from his mortal enemy's conversation to Crabbe, who was ready to receive his question. "Vincent Crabbe," Goyle grumbled, his voice like gravel tumbling about his mouth. "What is the best grade you have ever received?"

Crabbe lowered his head in shame. "An E+ in Muggle Studies, four years ago." The entire room stared at him. "What? I liked the class on that television bloke, Jerry Springer." He had to wait for the laghter to die down before he could ask his question to the last Slytherin in the row, Blaise Zabini.

"Blaise Zabini. Are you a guy or a girl?" Any private conversations in the room ceased, and all eyes were on Blaise, who looked shocked.

"You want the truth?" Blaise asked quietly. "The truth is, I'm both. That's it. That's my secret. I am a hermaphrodite. Are you all happy now? That you get your own private freak show every day in the halls? Does that amuse you?"

Silence.

"Can we see?" It was Lavender shouting from the last row. Her fellow Gryffindors shushed her.

"That's it, you're dead." Blaise attempted to push through the crowd, but the path was blocked by a group of Hufflepuffs.

"That's quite enough," Draco shouted from the back. "No fighting. This ia peaceful ceremony. It's the rules. We're all friends here. Right mate?" He addressed the question more quietly, directly at Harry.

"Not likely," Harry muttered back at him, but he simply grinned. "Who's next?" he asked.

"I believe we are moving on to Hufflepuff," Draco replied.


	3. The Hufflepuffs

Part 3: Hufflepuff

* * *

Hannah Abbot sat at the beginning of the first row of Hufflepuffs, trying not to look at Blaise. Hannah hadn't been the same for quite some time--quieter, less likely to ever smile. "We have advanced Herbology together," Blaise said, still unhappy with the results of his/her dare, and ready to cause some damage. "I see you with your sleeves rolled up all the time, and I know for a fact that you don't have a cat." Blaise got up, moving over to Hannah to pull her to her feet. "So I want to know what these are from." Blaise lifted one of Hannah's arms high over her head, her sleeve falling back to reveal the bright red cuts and the older white and pink scars. There were a few gasps in the audience, and Blaise seemed satisfied enough not to need an answer from the blond. 

"This is a cruel game," Hermione muttered, overheard only by those around her.

"That's the point," Draco whispered to her, leaning over both Harry and Ron. Harry resisted the urge to 'accidentally' knee him in the groin, but he was in the perfect position to do so. "Secrets and pain. Everyone's got them. I wonder what yours is."

"Don't be so bloody melodramatic."

"Again. That's the point."

Once free from Blaise's grip, Hannah fell back into her chair, choking back tears. She turned to Ernie Macmillan, who was holding her hand in comfort. "If--if you had to spend the rest of your life with only one other person in this room, who would it be?"

He looked at her with a small smile and let loose a little laugh. "You don't already know?" She shook her head. "It's you."

There were catcalls and noises of disgust coming from the rows that had already gone, but most of the room started a slow clap, until Ernie, face red from the unexpected confession, leaned over to kiss away Hannah's tears. She smiled for what seemed like the first time in months.

Hermione continued to clap while smiling happily.

Eventually Justin Finch-Fletchley, after admitting to using an illegal time-turner to correctly predict the winner of every quid ditch game for six years past, turned his attention of Susan Bones. Susan was such a quiet girl, modest and shy. It was time to shake things up. "Who is the real author of 'As the Broomstick Turns?' " he asked, citing a popular serialized story from Witch Weeklyprone to sarcasm and laugher in the halls of Hogwarts on a regular basis.

Susan blushed bright red. "I am," she whispered. "How did you know?"

"Your mother told my mother."

"Louder," Draco ordered from the back of the room. "We can't hear you, Bones."

"I am! I wrote it!" The room erupted in fits of laughter.

"Even the episode where Zelda Higgins and Healer Brock Bennigan _do it_ in the Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's?" someone asked.

"Yes!" She buried her face in her hands.

"I loved that episode," Hermione said so quietly that no one heard her.

"How'd you know how to write about that?"

"Hey!" Susan said, standing up to shout over the crowd with sudden courage. "I get fifty galleons an episode for those things, so you can all just shut up!" Once the crowd was quiet again she asked the next girl her question, and then it was Eloise Midgeon's turn.

"How many people have you had sex with. Besides yourself of course. That doesn't count."

Eloise sat up straight in her chair, and answered calmly. "Twenty-seven, including Gideon Crumb of the Weird Sisters."

"She's lying," Nott protested. "Who'd sleep with her?"

"I'm a girl, Theodore. I'm no going to lie about a number like that. I just have a very healthy sexual appetite, and older men happen to find me attractive. I've had more than my share of ministry officials too you know."

"If she is lying," Draco assured, "She'll be dead by midnight tomorrow."

"I'm not lying," Eloise said calmly, and the questioning of the Hufflepuffs continued.


End file.
